The Shakespearean Method
by Allthequirkythings
Summary: Nishimuraya Aira is a smart-mouth, lax runner with a detachment to everything around her. He's the stoic captain of the tennis team with a mission to find her ambition. Who knew one over-dramatized play could bring them together? A weird little story about polar opposites, ultimate frisbee, and old-time poetry. OCxTezuka


**I actually have no real idea what this is. Is was supposed to start off as some one-shot, then stretched into some drama, and I'm not sure what it is now. Sorry for the lack of enthusiasm, but hope you enjoy it anyway! Please review.**

* * *

As an adherent to Seigaku's complex student social scene and subconscious lean-on girl to all of her more popular friends, Nishimuraya was one of the first to hear about Tezuka Kunimitsu's new girlfriend.

Not that Aira _cared_ or anything, but it seemed that an increasing number of students around her were catching 'Spring Fever', making their faces turn red and sweat and stammer and act like their heads weren't screwed on quite tightly enough.

She called it the Pubescent Chills. It was like...a relapse of puberty.

There'd be the ogling eyes, then the high temperatures, then the uncontrollable need to flirt with every single person the victim would see. It ultimately ended in chills or embarrassment.

Vaccines now available.

Side effects include acne and increased aggravation.

But the thing that caught her interest was that it was simply _Tezuka. _

Tezuka, man of silence, who had turned down confession after confession with a polite, "I have a commitment to tennis," or a neutral, "I'm not interested" to every girl, no matter how pretty or polite or poised she was.

"I think they were friends from elementary school, or something like that," Miharu commented, stomping her feet into her shoes without bothering to untie them. Somehow their talk about school ended up about math class, which linked directly to the boredom of today, and staring at the bricks in the wall, and how closely they resembled Tezuka Kunimitsu.

"She's a pretty one, though," Sachiko continued as she slammed her locker.

Aira pulled her head through the mud-splattered jersey and made a face of mock surprise.

"Oh no, not one of _those_."

Miharu scowled, leaning lazily against the lockers. Her jersey was wrinkled and marked with a grass stain from last practice when she'd gone for a low toss to the right. Sachiko's thick multitude of blonde hair was tied into a mess of braids like a nest of yellow snakes, winding into a loose braid that barely swept her collar.

"Haha. Funny. Izumi Juria's in my French class. What a cliché girl. Gardening Club vice prez. I've been past their flat; little flower pots in every window. Always so unbelievably..."

The word seemed to bubble up and shift around in her mouth before bursting.

"..._nice_," she finally finished.

"Hn. I'd hope so."

Though Miharu talked a little too much about nothing, she was one of the few who wouldn't blow up at the sheer apathy of Aira's comments.

"_Anyway_, rumor is, Tezuka's..._different _around her. Like, _talking_. And I saw it at lunch; he'd say something, and she'd laugh like he was saying something freaky funny. It was..."

Aira glanced up from her laces to catch Miharu contorting her face.

"It was _disconcerting._"

She just couldn't help it. Sarcasm found its way out of Aaira's mouth as easily as her tongue did. These short remarks came out as suddenly and often as popcorn burst in hot oil.

"Tezuka's a real keeper, that one. Who _wouldn't _want a totally quiet, strict, silent, judgmental boy as a partner in crime?" She smoothed her wavy hair under a plain black hat. "And to think, he was available since our first year, ladies."

"Cute. But they seem to actually get along decently well."

Miharu made a face and stared at the number five of a Regular on her chest. "She doesn't even do a sport though! I thought Tezuka would go for someone more..." her hand made some vague motions in the air.

"More oxygen-like; I know, right?"

"Harde har har." Miharu opened the door as Aira stood up. She peered at her friend with flickering coffee eyes as Aira sauntered past, her Frisbee under one arm. She didn't usually show it, but Miharu was often concerned about her best friend: a loose bullet like Aira who rolled harmlessly through the air.

One day the loose, lax girl was going to be grounded though, which was why Miharu silently worried so much, especially at practice, when crazy captain Kotono flung around a frying pan trying to hit her down.

"That lip's going to get you in trouble today, I can just feel it."

"These lips? Never."

"Kotono's in a mood too. Try to leave your mouth closed for a while today."

Nishimuraya put a hand delicately on her forehead and quoted,

"'_My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand_

_To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss_.'"

Instead of applauding her newest line memorized, Miharu rolled her eyes as they made their way to the field. "I still don't see why you scowl at all the newest manga and breathe in that crap."

"'_Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing?_'"

"Real poetic, Juliet. Makes you seem like a real literature professor."

Aira deftly reached up and plucked a leaf from a tree, landing it on Miharu's head. "That's "As You Like It", Rosalind's line for your information, _ye uncultured swine_."

"Shut it, wench; no one cares. And hurry up. We're doing suicides today."

* * *

Why her captain couldn't just let them play, Nishimuraya didn't know, but she was getting really tired sprinting back and forth across the field.

Suicides were incredibly taxing, as Aira breathed hard between the stitches in her side. The only reason she liked to run was because it required no thought...but during warm-ups, all she _did _was think.

Think about what was coming up next, think about how long until they were finished, think about when could they start actually running, think about how on Earth that red number eight had found its way onto her chest, because she _hated _this warm-up- when was it over again?

Everyone else was a good two strides ahead of her, but who cared? Not like this was a competition or anything, right? Besides, she reasoned as her steps slowed down, the number on her chest meant she was just a second-stringer; not a Regular, so what was there to lose?

"And high knees!" Kotono ordered from where she stood hipshot, a hand on the waist of her running shorts and the other wearing her stiff bleached visor like a bracelet. "Next are sprints."

Then, like an afterthought, "Number Eight, pick it up!"

_Eesh. Chill out, woman. It's club, not the Olympics._

"Pick what up, Captain?"

"The pace and your respect, Smart-mouth."

"Didn't realize I dropped 'em, Captain."

Her dark eyes flashed. "And an extra lap around the sports grounds just for that lip. Now get out of here."

* * *

Aira pursed her mouth before blowing a bubble of gum. Captain could sure be strict sometimes.

Fair, she'd egged her on; fair, it was a month until their first meet; and fair, Kotono was _always _reminding them not to question her lest they wanted a pile of skin and bones on the floor.

But Aira really had no idea what always came out of her mouth.

And Kotono was so _high-strung _all the time.

Nishimuraya jogged at a shamelessly slow pace.

Running was a hobby, not a giant deal, Aira snorted, dodging a few falling leaves as she ran out of the canopied path. She glanced briefly at the number eight in deep red on her chest.

_Hm. How'd that happen? _

"Oy, Nishimuraya!"

Aira turned and immediately smiled, a hand lifting in greeting.

"Hey, Eiji, Oishi."

"No way- extra laps _again_, Aira?" Eiji lifted his red brow and propped his racket up behind his head. "You must've done it up with Kotono-chan again, eh?" He stifled laughter, but Oishi seemed rather concerned.

"You really should stop push her buttons, Aira. Kotono's under lots of stress," he explained worriedly, like maybe that would solve things. "She's having you run even more, what with the tournament coming closer and everything, and this can't be beneficial to you-"

"Eh~" Nishimuraya put up a so-so sign with her hand. "We're all fine."

She was about to excuse herself when someone in a skirt caught her eye.

"Hey, is that Juria?" Aira inquired curious to see the kind girl all-knowing-Miharu-Sachiko had been going on about for the last half hour.

"Hm?"

They both turned, glancing at the pretty girl posed on one of the bleachers, mahogany locks glancing coyly off one shoulder and laughing occasionally at the game she was watching. Her trills were accompanied by the occasional supportive clap of her hands, and her legs were crossed, causing a few guys to turn and give her goggly eyes.

Aira shook her head. _And the Pubescent Chills take yet another victim. _

"Izumi-chan?" Eiji grinned. "She's cute, eh? Tezuka's finally got a girlfriend; seems a little weird. Funny, huh, Oishi?"

He poked his Doubles partner in the shoulder a few times before going into bullet mode, troubled by lack of reaction. "Huh, Oishi? Huh?"

"E-eh...Eiji stop; that hurts...sure. Funny." He seemed quite distracted and nervous, like Tezuka might materialize somewhere somehow.

"Who knows, though," the redhead continued, unperturbed, tracing little circles in the air. "Maybe something interesting happened. I hear they got together under the _big_ oak tree outside the library when she confessed, and she-"

"Eiji. Oishi. We're practicing now."

They both turned stiff.

"Fifteen laps. Don't let your guard down."

"Yes, Tezuka."

They wordlessly turned and padded off, and Aira figured it was in her best interest to do the same when-

"Who are you?"

"Oh..."

"_Number Eight_!"

"_Oh_..."

She turned on her heels, back and forth, rather sheepish, caught red-handed by perhaps the two most notoriously intimidating captains in the entire school.

Kotono had her hat on and had obviously been leading the warm-up laps when she'd spotted Aira fraternizing with another team. She stormed forward with the force of a full wind gale.

Being around another team during practice, when she was being supposedly 'punished'.

And if that wasn't bad enough, it was a _boys' _team.

And even further under that, it was the boys' _tennis _team.

A small portion of the smaller teams' fund for the year (including that of the girls' ultimate Frisbee club) had been pilfered to pay for the boys' brief training trip in the mountains, and though it was only a small amount, Kotono had harbored a resentment towards the entire team when the bill for their own yearly training camp had been cut slightly short.

So instead of training on stretches of beach and soft sand, they were forced to do long loops around the much-less-glamorous school campus under a more-irate-than-usual Kotono.

"Drag your _sorry_ butt over here, _Number Eight_!"

Aira shuffled over there and quirked her mouth up. "Sorry, Captain. Got a bit sidetracked."

"Three times; have you no ambition to stay on this team, Number Eight?"

If there was anything Nishimuraya couldn't do, it was lie.

"No, Captain."

She stiffened.

"Give me your jersey."

"Excuse me?"

"Give me your jersey."

The other girls jogged up slowly, stopping, eyes wide at the debacle.

The captain and the second-stringer had gone at it often during practice, but never like this. Even the tennis teamand a few chattering bystanders paused to watch with wide eyes.

Captain _wanted _her to be brought down and humbled.

Nishimuraya would have to learn and just _go with it _for once, because whatever she was always trying to prove just wasn't worth it.

Humble the girl with the rebellious streak hidden under piles of soft, floating hair.

Aira's mellow green eyes looked neutral- frighteningly neutral- as she swiftly pulled the jersey off over her head, tossing it to the ground, and letting it crumple into a pile at her captain's feet.

She was wearing a tight purple exercise shirt that showed off her distinct collarbones and smooth skin underneath, but the crowd gasped like she was naked. Her sharp chin lifted up like a challenge, though she was a breath shorter than her captain.

Kotono felt almost sad.

_Oh, Number Eight. Can't you see you're not winning by doing things like this?_

Instead, she commanded, "Saoki."

The girl stumbled forward with surprised hazel eyes. "Y-yes, Captain?"

"Trade jerseys with Nishimuraya."

Saoki bit her lip, shamelessly embarrassed.

"...Captain?"

"Yes, what is it?"

"Well, it's just that..."

"It's what?"

After speaking so much with Nishimuraya, this girl sounded slow and much too polite to communicate efficiently.

"Well..." she twirled her black hair. "Well...you see, Tanaka-buchou, I'm in the lower bracket, and, well," Saoki peered at Aira with wide admiration. "It's just that Nishimuraya-senpai..."

"We'll sort it out later," Kotono snapped a little sharper than she probably should have. At that, the numberless runner slipped her jersey off from over her tank top, passing it to her captain, who traded it with the number eight.

"Well?" she dangled it out to Aira, who stared with that same disconnected, lopsided expression. "Take it or not; either way, you're digging your own grave."

For a very, very brief moment, she was scared the girl wouldn't take it. She'd walk away without another word, they'd lose a key player, Kotono'd be the one who bullied Aira to leave, and Seigaku wouldn't even place the entire year- _again_.

Only last year was the first year they had a chance, when she'd risen up as captain, and Nishimuraya had taken jersey eight almost immediately upon her arrival from another school.

But Aira took it smoothly, slipping it on, only saying, "It's a lot less stressful in this one: roomier. I like it."

* * *

Contrary to popular belief, Nishimuraya Aira really _did _care about a safe amount of things. Her family, her pet cat, her collection of shoelaces, and running. However, her compassion didn't particularly exceed that small system of things.

Besides her family, the only other person she felt somewhat-deeply attached to was Miharu, who was really the only other person to put up with her. And after hanging around with Aira since her second-year, Saoki'd figured out a few things about the girl.

She named her cat Hubcap because his face was flat.

And she just didn't show her care the same as everyone else.

While Miharu herself handed out time and energy with helping her friends (including waiting for them in the changing rooms), and Kotono did what she thought was best for them, Airi didn't have any particularly noticeable means of showing her affection.

She did, however, show she'd be disappointed, hinting she'd cared in the first place. Little things.

When their stick bridge in physics collapsed, Aira'd just shrugged but turned away and didn't want to remake it. When her language arts teacher called her poem unthoughtful, Miharu'd found it recycled in her locker.

In fact, the only thing she didn't seem to give up on was running, even through crazy captain Tanaka Kotono swung with her frying pan. Which meant Aira desperately, desperately cared.

At first, Saoki had thought Nishimuraya was just immensely shy or angry inside. Figuring the truth was much, much harder.

Aira just..._didn't_.

As to what she didn't, she still had to figure out for herself.

* * *

**Okay. Derp.**


End file.
